


Cariño

by itscryptidtime



Category: Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bad Things Happen To Carlos, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied Sexual Content, Inspiration, Lolita, M/M, Pedophilia, Pining, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itscryptidtime/pseuds/itscryptidtime
Summary: "Farewell, Mister Palmer."With that, the boy's toes, covered in pearly white socks, went tiptoeing away in an arc right past Cecil and out the door to enjoy the summer's breeze.His name was Carlos.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Cariño

Carlos. That was his name.

Carlos, the boy with the tan skin and cut-off shorts that were much too small and resembled daisy dukes more than anything. Carlos, the supposed "hellion" he was told often sat at the windowsill of his bedroom, studying the way the leaves move on the trees outside or the various stars in the dusky sky, his telescope (which might as well be a kaleidoscope, silly boy) clutched within caramel fingers. So sweet, caramel sweet, Cecil was tempted to drop to his knees and suckle them. Carlos, the one with the flannel, the patterns going left right, left right, left right, leaving Cecil dizzy with haze and a want to drown in the lines. In Carlos. Sweet, impressionable, _perfect_ Carlos. Teeth like a military cemetery and hair that was lush, wispy with dark, loving curls that cradled his ears and cut off under the lobes, outlining what a sharp jaw he had. Behind that jaw, those lips, was no surprise. A voice that spoke to him and sounded nothing short of perfect, perfect, _perfect._

Every word that left that boy's mouth had him craving _more, Carlos, sing to me more._ A dove that had no right to be perched so beautifully on the second last step of the stairwell, his arm holding his body taut on the rail while he slanted and playfully peaked around the corner, a lab coat loosely hugging his frail form while his mother stood in the entry way, scoffing at his antics as she gave him an introduction that did the boy no justice whatsoever. Her words were minimal in contrast to the story that was unfolding within Cecil's mind, every page and every word ghosted over by Cecil's lips, like he was worshipping the boy's body past the rugged clothes and stark lab coat himself. He clutched tighter at his bag within his fingers, tempted to throw it open then and there to get his notebook and pen out just to interview Carlos and find out the mystery those dark eyes held behind them.

Cecil was smitten. Oh, so smitten. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He was sure he'd need to invest in a new pair of lungs shortly after his visit, that is, if Carlos hadn't already beat his endeavors to the punch by placing his pert lips over his and granting him such sweet, sweet breath. To save him from his efforts. Now, Cecil wouldn't mind that at all. 

"Upstairs, is where your room will be," his mother went on, ready to turn on her heel and lead Cecil the way to said room, that is, when she stopped in her tracks and regarded her son, who was still very much in the way. Carlos looked up, beaming, knowing very well he was being an inconvenience. _Not to me, dear Carlos,_ Cecil wanted to say, but instead held his tongue by clearing his throat and adjusting the tie on his neck that suddenly felt too tight. His mother was speaking again. _"Cariño,_ why don't you bid Mister Palmer farewell and go play outside?" 

_Cariño._ How charming. And there young Cariño was, approaching and steadfast in his movements, catching Cecil off guard in seconds. The young beauty, clad in what he presumed was a former father's coat, going by its oversized draping on the boy's shoulders. He hopped off the step in an easy one, two, three before he was in front of Cecil with a triumphant look on his face. A head shorter, Cecil tipped his jaw down and met the boy's eyes with his own, deep, violet ones. A rarity amongst his kind. The glasses on Carlos' nose were askew from his stairwell-lingering, tempting Cecil to reach out and adjust them. But instead, he was greeting him with a patient smile that certainly wasn't as warm as Carlos', who was still idling in front of him, lovingly baring his teeth like he was ready to lurch forward and tear at Cecil's throat at any moment, yet did no such thing. He simply stood, innocent as the coat flared behind him, cordial in its wake as was the smile that was currently plastered on the boy's face. Sweet, lovely, _perfect._ Carlos-- Cariño, whoever he was, besides his, was just so _perfect._

 _"Farewell,_ Mister Palmer." 

With that, the boy's toes, covered in pearly white socks, went tiptoeing away in an arc right past Cecil and out the door to enjoy the summer's breeze. Cecil looked back, completely breathless, yearning. Like he should be calling out to Carlos and chasing after him before he disappeared within the woes of the outside world forever. But, no such remedy came. His sweet Carlos went out to play, following his mother's word to a T. Cecil wanted to chastise him with a disapproving click of his tongue, say _no, Carlos, call me Cecil. Call me what you like, what a siren calls a lost sailor. Call me a fool. Call me lovesick._ _Call me yours._

Oh, how he'd love, love, love to hear his name on his lips. Perhaps during the nights, when the world was supposed to be fast asleep and both Cecil and Carlos were in the boy's bedroom, very much wired to the nerves in their bodies, attached, _attracted_ to one another like two magnets on the surface of the family fridge, just barely holding up the family photo that was taken ages ago and was gradually wearing at the edges. The breeze outside, nor the rustles of the leaves Carlos loves to study so much wouldn't be enough to hide the breathless sounds from Carlos' pretty coffee-tinted lips that Cecil was drawing from him, over, over, and over again. Cecil was greedy. He wanted to hear him, wanted _him_ alone, to himself. And he'd take him, whatever the cost may be. 

"Mister Palmer?" 

The woman was calling him again, in that sweet tone that Carlos had obviously inherited. He realized he'd been staring, so he met her gaze again with a new and composed smile, nodding in earnest. "Your boy is quite the character. Do excuse me for being caught off guard." 

The concern on her face was gone in seconds, easily charmed by Cecil's easygoing demeanor and inviting words they both shared a laugh over. 

"Sarcasm, he gets it from his father." His mother explained, now taking up the space that Carlos had just been perched on. Clearly waiting for Cecil to follow her. So, he came forward by a step or two, trying to retrace where Carlos' nimble feet had just been, as if to see if the warmth was still there or not. But it was difficult with the worn Oxfords on his own feet that were clearly in need of a shine sooner or later. 

"Shall we?" She smiled at him again, sickeningly sweet. It reminded him of Carlos, who was likely outside right now, doing what it is boys his age do outdoors. Playing in the sprinklers, picking at the grass, getting dirt on those dusty knees that Cecil wanted to kiss better if he were to ever get caught up in his gallivanting and trip. 

Cecil pursed his lips, before nodding. 

"We shall." 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is appreciated!


End file.
